Chapter 29
Vito's POV
"I don't mind about the marriage. I care more about David's safety than anything else."
Her words echoed in my head like a taunt, each syllable stoking a fire of rage I hadn't expected to feel. Isabella Cohen stood there in that hospital corridor, graciously dismissing our engagement as if it were some minor inconvenience she was happy to be rid of, and something primitive and possessive roared to life in my chest.
How dare she.
The civilized part of my mind knew her response should have been exactly what I wanted to hear. After all, hadn't I been questioning this arranged marriage myself? Hadn't I just spent the morning contemplating whether to honor my debt to Maria over my obligation to the Cohen family? Isabella's magnanimous withdrawal should have solved all my problems.
Instead, it made me want to drag her back to my office and remind her exactly how she'd trembled under my commands just yesterday. I wanted to make her remember the way her body had responded to my voice, the way she'd gasped and arched beneath my instructions, the way she'd completely surrendered to my will despite her fears.
You belong to me, I wanted to tell her. You don't get to decide when you want me and when you don't.
The urge to assert my dominance, to claim what was mine by right of arrangement and conquest, burned through me with startling intensity. Every instinct I possessed screamed that Isabella Cohen was trying to slip away from me, and that I should stop her by any means necessary.
That's when Maria's fingers tightened around my hand.
The gentle pressure was like cold water thrown over a raging fire, instantly reminding me of where I was and what I was supposed to be focused on. I looked down at Maria's pale face, saw the way her eyes darted nervously between Isabella and me, and felt the familiar weight of twenty-year-old guilt settle over my shoulders.
What kind of monster am I?
Here was Maria Castellano, the brave little girl who had saved my life all those years ago, now broken and fragile and trusting me to keep her safe. She was sitting in a hospital corridor, about to undergo medical tests that might determine the extent of damage years of addiction had done to her system, and all I could think about was another woman.
A woman who had just told me, in front of Maria, that she didn't want to marry me.
I can't abandon Maria now. Not when she needs me most.
The logical part of my brain understood that this was the perfect solution. Maria needed care and protection, which I could provide. Isabella wanted her freedom, which I could grant. The marriage arrangement had always been more about family obligation than personal desire anyway.
So why did the thought of letting Isabella go make me feel like something essential was being torn away from me?
"I should go," Isabella said quietly, her gaze flickering between Maria and me with something that might have been understanding. "You clearly have more important things to focus on."
More important. The phrase hit me like a slap. She thought Maria was more important to me than she was—and wasn't that exactly what I'd been telling myself?
But before I could formulate a response, Maria's grip on my hand became almost painful in its desperation.
"Don't leave," she whispered, though I couldn't tell if she was speaking to me or to Isabella. Her breathing was becoming rapid and shallow, the kind of panic response I'd seen in trauma victims who feared abandonment above all else.
"It's alright," I murmured to her, bringing my other hand up to cover hers in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture. "No one is leaving you."
Isabella must have understood the subtext, because she nodded and stepped back slightly. "I'll just... I'll wait until you're finished here. To make sure everything is alright."
The consideration in her voice, the way she seemed genuinely concerned about Maria's wellbeing despite being essentially dismissed in favor of another woman—it made that possessive fire in my chest burn even hotter.
She's not supposed to be this understanding. She's supposed to fight for me.
The thought was irrational and selfish, but I couldn't shake it as Maria was wheeled away for her tests, leaving me alone in the hospital corridor with nothing but my conflicted thoughts for company.
I tried to focus on Maria's medical results, on the conversation I needed to have with Dr. Reeves about her treatment options, on anything except the woman who had just walked out of my life with such casual grace.
"I care more about David's safety than anything else."
Dr. Rosenberg. The man she loved, the one she'd begged me to release when she'd submitted to my demands in my office. The memory of her passion, her reluctant arousal, the way she'd come apart so completely under my guidance—it all felt tainted now by the knowledge that she'd been thinking of someone else the entire time.
Had she closed her eyes and imagined it was David's voice commanding her? Had she pretended it was his hands she felt when she touched herself for my pleasure?
The jealousy that thought provoked was immediate and vicious. I'd had women before—beautiful, sophisticated women who'd been genuinely attracted to my power and wealth. But none of them had ever made me feel this raw possessiveness, this need to claim and mark and ensure they belonged to me completely.
What was it about Isabella Cohen that made me want to break every rule I'd established about keeping business separate from personal desire?
Focus on what matters, I told myself sternly. Maria needs you. The family needs this alliance. Stop thinking about a woman who's just made it clear she doesn't want you.
But even as I tried to redirect my thoughts, I found myself replaying every moment of our encounter in my office.
And now she's throwing it away like it meant nothing.
The sound of footsteps in the corridor interrupted my brooding thoughts. Maria was being wheeled back from her tests, looking even more exhausted than when she'd left. Dr. Reeves followed close behind, his expression professionally neutral but with undertones of concern that made my chest tighten with worry.
"How did it go?" I asked as Maria was positioned back beside me.
"The tests went well," Dr. Reeves replied carefully. "We should have preliminary results within the hour. Maria was very cooperative."
But Maria herself looked distressed, her eyes darting around the corridor as if searching for something.
"Where is she?" Maria asked, her voice small and anxious. "The woman who was here before?"
Isabella. Of course Maria would be worried about her. She'd seen the way I'd looked at Isabella, had probably sensed the tension between us even in her fragile state.
"She stepped away," I said gently. "Nothing for you to worry about."
"But she's your... you're supposed to marry her, aren't you?" Maria's blue eyes were wide with an emotion I recognized as fear. "You're going to leave me for her."
"No one is leaving anyone," I said firmly, though even as I spoke the words, I wondered if I was making a promise I couldn't keep.
That's when I heard my grandfather's voice carrying down the corridor.
"Vito, there you are. I've brought someone to see you."
I turned to see my grandfather approaching with Isabella at his side, his weathered hand resting on her shoulder in a gesture that was both protective and possessive. She looked uncomfortable but resigned, clearly having had little choice but to accompany him back here.
"This," my grandfather announced with unmistakable pride and authority, "is your fiancée."
The words hung in the air like a pronouncement of fate, and I watched Maria's face crumple as their meaning sank in.
She thinks I'm going to abandon her for a marriage of convenience.
Maria's breathing became rapid and shallow, her chest rising and falling with the telltale signs of a panic attack. Her grip on my hand became desperate, painful, as if holding onto me physically could prevent me from choosing someone else over her.
"You're leaving me," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "You're going to marry her and leave me all alone again."
The broken trust in her voice was unbearable. This was the woman who had saved my life, who had suffered twenty years of hell while I lived in luxury, who had finally found me again only to discover I was about to marry someone else.
I can't do this to her.
My grandfather was watching this display with growing impatience, clearly expecting me to handle the situation with more authority. Isabella looked mortified, as if she wanted to disappear rather than be the cause of Maria's distress.
And Maria... Maria was falling apart in front of all of us, convinced that I was about to break the promise I'd made to a frightened eight-year-old girl in a dark tunnel beneath the city.
Some debts can never be repaid.
I looked at my grandfather, at Isabella, at the expectations and obligations that had been built around this marriage arrangement. Then I looked at Maria's tear-stained face, at the woman who had given me my life and asked for nothing in return except that I not abandon her again.
The decision, when it came, felt both inevitable and devastating.
"Cancel the engagement," I said quietly, my voice cutting through the tension in the corridor like a blade.
Silence fell over our small group like a physical weight.
"What did you say?" my grandfather asked, his voice dangerous in its restraint.
"I said cancel the engagement." I looked directly at Isabella as I spoke, seeing the shock and confusion in her eyes. "Miss Cohen and I will not be married."